Opacity
by cattney
Summary: Molly Hooper was three days from becoming a pathologist when she died. Having found herself stuck in consciousness, she wanders the earth for years before she meets the one person who can see her-and maybe even save her. Sherlolly AU.


She touched the little box in her pocket and smiled. Today was the last day of Molly Hooper's residency and in three day's time she would be the newest pathologist at St. Bartholomew's morgue. To say she was ecstatic was putting it mildly. Since she had gotten the call from the morgue director's assistant, she had been bouncing off of the walls, telling everyone who would listen. Her father was almost as pleased as she was upon hearing the news and in congratulations, he had gotten her a hand-crafted silver anatomical heart locket which sat quietly in the little box in her pocket. It was absolutely gorgeous (and no doubt expensive, which made Molly worry) and she was dying to put it on. They weren't allowed to wear jewelry as part of their uniforms at the hospital she did her residency at, but St. Bart's allowed it, another thing she was grateful for.

The clock hit six o'clock and Molly was free. She was on her way to the breakroom to clock out and say goodbye to her colleagues one last time when a gun went off.

* * *

Molly Hooper was standing at the back of a church, watching her own funeral. At first, she thought she had survived the shooting. When she stood and tried to get someone's attention through the chaos, she looked down and saw her body lying on the linoleum. There was a hole in her head and blood trickled from her mouth. It was then she knew that she was dead.

It was taking her some time to come to terms with her death. What bothered her most, however, was that she was still here roaming the earth as a lonely ghost. Nothing to aspire to, no end to expect, nothing to even do. She possessed a meaningless half-existence which was, she thought, the most depressing thing about being dead.

* * *

She had taken to wandering areas of London she had never discovered before. Since there was no death to fear, even the worst of neighborhoods were seen by her hallowed eyes.

After god knows how long of wandering the earth with no direction, Molly decided that yes, she would finally go and visit the place that held so much promise for her in life. The morgue of St. Bart's hospital.

It seemed a bit ironic to her, to spend so much time, money, and effort, to become a person who cares for the dead to die the very moment her training had ended.

She rode a bus to the hospital (one benefit of being dead-she didn't have to pay any fares) and wandered down a flight of stairs to the basement. There she stood outside of the metal doors, a pang of longing for a life that ended too soon aching in her chest.

With a sigh, she opened the door and walked in. The morgue was empty, and large. The shining white surfaces made the ache in her chest feel heavier. It was so clean and state-of-the-art and she knew that she would have been in heaven working here. The forty years she would have spent down here until her retirement could have been the happiest years of her life, but she was robbed of them.

She sat at a desk near the end of a room, crying tears that never came. She didn't hear the doors open.

* * *

The tall, dark man looked at the small white figure crying in the morgue. She had long auburn hair that cascaded down her back the same way a waterfall pours. It was almost impossible to tell that she was clothed at first glance, her pale skin and white dress matched perfectly. She sobbed heavily, but he could not see a reason why. He thought at first, she was mourning a family member but no corpses were out and the girl wasn't wearing shoes, which was strictly against hospital policy. The dress wasn't longer than her feet, so she shouldn't have even gotten through the front door.

"Excuse me, but I have work to do and your crying is rather distracting." He said.

Molly stopped crying and slowly turned around to look at the man. She looked around, as if she were looking for someone else who might be crying.

"Do you mean me?" She said, speaking aloud for the first time in months. He noticed the locket around her neck, a silver heart that rested on her bosom.

"Of course I do, who else is here?" He replied, gesturing around the empty morgue.

"Wait, so, you mean that you can see me? And hear me?"

"I honestly do not know how I can be any clearer. Yes, I can see you and yes, I can hear you."

She walked up to him hesitantly and touched his face. She had felt human skin under her hand for the first time in years.

"Who are you?" She asked, mystified.

"Sherlock Holmes." He said with curiosity painting his words. He removed her hand from his face and set it at her side. "And who are you?"

"I can't remember much..."

"Ah, you've probably suffered a head injury, escaped your room and got lost, ending up here. If I were you, I'd head back upstairs, they're probably looking for you." _Though it doesn't account for the odd clothing, _he thought.

"No, that's not it. I can't remember much, but I do remember that I was going to be a pathologist here, at this morgue. And then," She swallowed hard and stuttered a bit before continuing. "Then I died."

* * *

I'm not sure if I want to continue with this story but I had this idea and I could not get it out of my head so... here you go!


End file.
